


All I Need

by eponine119



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M, the 70s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23162326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eponine119/pseuds/eponine119
Summary: He didn't plan it. But he kissed her anyway.
Relationships: Juliet Burke/James "Sawyer" Ford
Kudos: 18





	All I Need

**Author's Note:**

> Usually I turn to song lyrics if I can't think of a title. But this one was inspired by the song.

_Kissing you was not what I had planned  
But now I'm not so sure just where I stand_  
– Jack Wagner, “All I Need”

All I Need  
by eponine119  
March 8, 2020 

He didn't plan it. But he kissed her anyway. 

Sawyer and Juliet had been wandering the jungle for hours. They were looking for their lost people, and had split up from Jin and Miles. He starts to think her sense of direction is as bad as his. They hadn't found anything – not even a trace of anything – but he's pretty sure this was the third time they'd passed that broken tree limb. 

The air is so steamy and humid that it feels like it's raining. Her blond ponytail has doubled in size with wild curls springing everywhere. It fascinates him a little as he follows her, trying to figure out how to get her to let him take the lead. Even if he is enjoying the view. Now he's convinced he can't get them more turned around than they already are. 

“Hey, you hear that whistle? It's break time,” he says, standing still. She turns to look at him, then starts back in his direction. 

Her foot catches something when she's almost made it back to him and she stumbles. Her hand reaches out, landing against his chest. He puts his hands on her arms to steady her. She looks up at him, blue eyes wide, and her lips slightly parted. She is very, very close to him. 

Oh hell, he thinks with a harsh breath. Then his hands on her arms draw her against him, and he closes his eyes and kisses her. 

He feels her stiffen against him, but only for the barest second before she relaxes. His lips brush hers softly at first. Then she opens her mouth to him, her tongue meeting his eagerly. His heart hammers in his chest, and he buries one hand in her hair. She touches his face and he groans into her, the hand he still has on her arm pulling her closer. 

He kisses her harder, and she keeps kissing him back. That first shot of adrenaline starts to fade, and he gentles the kiss. Nibbling at her lips with his. Until his mouth parts from hers, leaving them both gasping. He presses his forehead to hers, his eyes still closed, his stomach full of strange nerves. Thinking that once he can catch his breath, he is going to do it again. 

But a second later, his arms are empty. She's gone. He opens his eyes and sees she's pulled away. Her lips are damp and swollen, and he starts to reach for her again, but then he sees that her eyes are frowning and confused. She's breathing hard, too, but has one arm wrapped around her stomach. 

The thrill of excitement bubbling in his chest turns to dread and disappointment. Even as his instinct is to fight it. 

“C'mon, that was a good kiss,” he says. “You were as into it as I was.” 

She looks at him like he's gone insane. 

Maybe he could have said something else instead. Something more... romantic? 

But he can't stop looking at her. The tangled mess his fingers made of her hair. How blue her eyes are in this godforsaken place. How soft he knows her lips are now. 

“Oh, no,” she says warningly. “Do not start looking at me like that.” 

“I wasn't lookin' at you,” he lies blatantly. Defensively. Because he does not understand this at all. That was a damn good kiss, and why the hell is she acting this way when all he wants to do is kiss her again? 

“Go make other friends, Sawyer,” she says, biting off his name. The name she's never, ever called him. “You don't need me.” 

“Who needs other friends? What's your problem?” 

She walks around in a little circle, like she's trying to figure out what to say, and then she walks up to him. She says in a low, small, dangerous voice, “My husband had a million other women. My boyfriend was killed by your people as Ben's pawn. The last man I kissed was in love with someone else. Who you are also in love with --” 

“I ain't in love with her,” he interrupts. 

“Of course, James,” she says, calm, hard, not believing a word. “Of course you're not.” 

“Then what do you want?” he demands. “Right now. Who do you want to be with?” 

“Maybe I'll just be alone for awhile,” she says. “Maybe some people are meant to be alone.” 

“Maybe so, but you ain't one of them.” 

She just looks at him. Almost pleading with him. 

He hears what she's saying. He understands. “You're scared of getting hurt. I'm not gonna hurt you.” 

“You're so desperate for a connection that you'll go after the first one who comes along. Even if it's me.” 

“You're breaking my heart,” he says, sarcastic. Because she's touched a nerve and all that excitement he had a minute ago is turning into anger. He wouldn't go after just anyone. It's her that he wants. 

“Go away, James,” she says. She raises her arms above her head, fixing her hair, preparing to walk away. 

“I don't give up that easily.” 

“I guess we'll find out who's more stubborn, then.” She twists her hair into a knot and secures it. 

He gives her his very best smile, because he loves a challenge like that. He sees it having the desired effect on her. “You already stayed for me,” he points out. “And we both know that was one hell of a good kiss.” He sidles over to her, nice and slow, right into her space, so close he thinks he can feel her breathe. She doesn't move. 

“Bye, James.” She's still not walking away. 

“Friends with benefits?” he offers. He strokes back one of the long locks of her hair that has already escaped from its knot. 

“How about just friends,” she counters, even as she is breathless with anticipation. 

“For now,” he says. She meets his gaze, and he kisses her again. She leans in to him, pressing her body against his, and it's all he can do not to snake his hand underneath her shirt. But instead he opens his mouth and lets her do the work. She's kissing him relentlessly, for someone who has just made so much noise about not being the least bit interested and wanting to be alone. 

He's hard and aching, and he wants so badly to touch her. It wouldn't take much to have this turn into a good lay in the jungle, but he knows if that happens, he will lose her. And he can't afford to lose her right now, not when he's stranded in 1974 with the damn Dharma Initiative. She's not wrong that he doesn't want to be alone. 

So he keeps his hands off, and when the kiss dies down, he ends it with several impossibly soft little closed mouth kisses. Neither one of them wants this moment to end. But it does, and this time he lets her go when she pulls away and disappears into the trees. 

“Son of a bitch.” He shakes his head at himself, wondering what in the hell he's going to do next. 

…

He finds his way back. After a long, cold shower, he blow-dries his hair. Then he goes to the cafeteria. Horace made it clear that he and his “boat crew” aren't welcome to socialize with the precious Iniative recruits, but they do have to eat. 

He skips the outcast table with Miles and Jin tonight. He grabs a couple of cold beers and a plate of slop. From his seat in the far corner, he can see the entire dining room. He sits there, watching and waiting. 

Finally Juliet shows up. She has not had a shower. Her hair is still tangled and fuzzy and she's sweating. Making him think that she's just stumbled in from the jungle, confirming his theory about her sense of direction. There's a smudge of dirt in the shape of his thumbprint on her cheek. 

He watches her load up her tray with salad, bread, the slop entree, and chocolate cake. Running around the jungle makes a girl hungry, apparently, and before they landed here they hadn't been eating on the regular. She fills a glass of water and chugs it right there at the water station before refilling the glass. She sits down by herself, not even looking around for a friendly face, and he watches her start with the cake. 

He pretends not to notice that her eyes look a little red-rimmed. 

He slinks out, then, with mission accomplished. He just needed to know that she made it back safe. 

…

The next morning, the four of them meet up at the cafeteria for breakfast, as has become their usual practice. Sawyer keeps looking at Juliet, but she is looking anywhere but at him. Mostly she seems interested in the bottom of her coffee mug. 

“I'll go with Jin today,” she says, and when he glances at her again, she is staring into space in his general direction. 

“Guess it's you and me, Jackie Chan,” Sawyer says to Miles, who rolls his eyes heartily at the nickname. 

They head out, and Sawyer can't help thinking about Juliet and Jin and what they're up to out there at the same time. He wonders what she's thinking about. 

“You make it with her yet?” Miles asks, out of the blue. 

“How's that left hand treatin' you?” Sawyer shoots back. 

“Right.” 

“What?” 

“I'm right handed.” Miles raises his hand in a wave as though to demonstrate. 

“Congratulations, Venkman, why are we havin' this conversation?” Sawyer snaps. It's hot, there's no trail, and he's suddenly worried that he's so transparent that even Miles has his number. 

“Your two weeks is almost up. You need to seal the deal or you're going to lose her.” 

“I ain't worried.” Sawyer is very worried, especially with her reaction to what happened yesterday. And how does Miles know about her giving him two weeks? Or is it just that's how long Horace gave them to stay and look for the rest of their crew? 

“Maybe you should be, Jim.” He took to calling him Jim that fast. 

“Well, I'm open to suggestions,” Sawyer says, still aggravated. 

Miles shrugs. 

“That's what I thought. How 'bout you work on getting yourself your own girl?” 

“I'm okay,” Miles says, the verbal equivalent of another shrug. 

Sawyer looks at him hard, like he needs his glasses to be able to see him clearly. He doesn't understand at all. 

“Unless you're just bidin' your time, waiting to see me fail,” Sawyer says, teasing. 

“Nope.” Miles sounds so nonchalant. Sawyer can see that he's lying. Good at it, but lying. This makes Miles uncomfortable. 

And then Sawyer sees it. Files the knowledge away for later. 

“You can be my backup plan, Cato,” he offers. 

But he knows Miles isn't wrong. 

...

The Dharma Initiative has a lot of extracurricular activities. There was a movie night. A trivia competition. Ice cream social. 

Sawyer lets them all slide by. Thinking that Juliet will come to him – that he should let her come to him. Hard pursuit will scare her off. He did learn something from Kate, after all. 

But it's not working. 

The four of them go out on patrol. She's gone back to being normal, for the most part. He watches her pretending that it never happened, that she's not interested in him. She never ends up alone with him. The more she pretends, the more he thinks he's got a chance. 

Then Dharma has a freakin' dance. 

It's in the rec room. Someone found a disco ball and put it up. The beams of white light cut through the otherwise darkened room. They are also playing disco music, which Sawyer thinks is a pretty good reason to go back to the barracks and finish the book he's reading. 

But then she walks in and he's glued to the spot. 

She's wearing a very not-Juliet white sundress and her hair is loose and shiny. She walks in like she feels awkward. He tosses his hair back and wishes he'd made more of an effort. She catches his eye and he wishes she hadn't just seen him preening for her. 

She comes to him. “Hey,” she says. 

“Hey,” he replies. “Nice dress.” 

“I stole it off a clothesline,” she says, and he believes her until she adds, “I have to have it back by midnight.” 

He chuckles and gives her a grin. 

They stand there for a minute. Smiling at each other. The moment kind of dies in awkwardness. 

She looks away. Noticing the punch bowl and fake, fake Oreos in the far corner of the room. “You want some punch?” 

“No,” he says, and takes her hand to keep her from bolting. 

She looks at their hands, entwined, but doesn't pull away. One corner of her mouth pulls up a little in a smirk he recognizes very well. Maybe this is all a manipulation, he thinks, but he doesn't care. 

“What do you want to do?” she asks. 

“Murder disco and introduce heavy metal,” he says. “But seein' as how that ain't an option...” He squeezes her hand experimentally. 

“I'm not dancing with you, James,” she says. 

“I ain't asking,” he points out, with his eyes wide at her, like he's shocked she would suggest it. “We can be wallflowers together.” A moment goes by in awkward silence. “You see that guy right there? With the Hawaiian shirt?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“I think he sells insurance.” 

“Did sell insurance,” she agrees. 

“They didn't sell you the Dharma health plan?” he asks. 

“No, just some makeup and a set of tupperware. I think it's a pyramid scheme.” 

“Should have gotten the knives.” He likes this. It feels easy. 

So that's what they do. They stand on the sidelines and people watch. He makes up nicknames and backstories for people. All of them are either mean or absurd. She laughs at one of them, and from that point on, his new goal in life is to hear her crazy laugh more often. 

He's trying too hard, and she's encouraging him, and he likes her that much more for it. 

“What do you think they do at the end of the dance?” she asks. 

“I would say turn out the lights, but it can't get much darker in here.” 

“They must turn them on. Blind everyone. Ruins the mood. Like when you're in your parents' basement playing seven minutes in heaven and your time is up.” 

“You sure you don't want to --” He's taking a chance. 

But it's too late. The lights come on, bright like a nuclear bomb, like she predicted, and everyone groans. “Party's over, folks,” says one of the Dharma security guys. Sawyer thinks his name is Phil. “Everybody's got work in the morning.” 

“He seems happy about it,” Sawyer mutters. 

“Never got to spend his seven minutes,” Juliet says. 

“About that --” he tries again, but suddenly that Phil guy is in his face. 

“Clear out of here.” 

“On our way, hoss,” Sawyer says, and impulsively takes Juliet's hand again, leading her out of the rec room. All along the path, initiates are scattering into the shadows and behind closed doors. 

He walks her to the women's barracks. The porch light is on. He notices again the dress she's wearing, how pretty it looks on her. He wants to say it, but he doesn't want to screw this up. “Two minutes to midnight, Cinderella,” he says. 

“I had fun,” she says. 

“Me too.” They stand there. Ever so awkwardly. “I guess this is goodnight,” he says. 

“Goodnight, James.” She's still standing there. Looking pretty. Looking at him. 

Then one of the other women pushes past them, right between them, to go through the door. She's the one they'd nicknamed Rosie the Riveter Robot earlier in the evening. In her wake, the moment is gone. 

“See you in the morning, Blondie,” he says, and turns to go. He walks away determinedly. He can feel her eyes on him all the way, and doesn't dare turn back. In his head, he does dare, and takes her face in his hands and kisses her senseless. He thinks about it all night. What might have been. 

...

Morning comes too early and they're back out in the jungle. “Juliet, you're with me,” he says, before anyone can suggest anything to the contrary. “You two, go that way.” He points, for Jin and Miles. 

“Guess Fred and Daphne want to make out, Scoob,” Miles says to Jin. He gives Sawyer a hard look as he walks away. Jin doesn't get the reference. 

When Sawyer looks at her, her eyes are blazing. 

“Always thought of myself as more of a Shaggy,” he says, because he has to defuse the situation somehow. 

She just gives him that funny smile. 

“You wanna?” he offers, giving her his own killer smile. Knowing she won't take him up on the offer to make out. 

“Maybe after some more witty banter,” she says, in that serious-deadpan way she has. 

“Very funny,” he says. “You like me better like this.” 

“Maybe I do.” She looks around. “What are we doing out here, anyway?” 

“What kind of question is that?” He looks at her, half-wild and half-angry. “We're looking for the rest of our people. Rose, Bernard. Locke.” 

“Do you even want to find him?” She puts her hands on her hips. “Things are going pretty well here.” 

“He's out there alone,” Sawyer says. Like it's the worst thing he can think of. 

“I think that's what he likes, James,” she says gently. 

“What about you?” he demands. Thinking about what she said when they were out here together before. 

“What about me?” she asks. 

“Miles tells me you keep turning down Billy from the motor pool.” 

“Maybe I'm waiting for you to make another move,” she says, and there's something dangerous in her eyes. 

“How long you willing to wait?” 

“The sub's leaving on Tuesday. We both know Horace will let you stay if that's what you want.” Implying she'll be gone. 

She's killing him like this. He's had enough of women playing games to last him a lifetime. But he doesn't think she's playing a game. “What do you want, Juliet?” He's competely exasperated. 

She runs her hands through her hair and looks at him so hard he can feel it. It's like a lightning bolt to the chest. 

“Why didn't you say so?” He's closed the distance between them and his hands are sliding around her waist before he finishes the sentence. Pushing his hips into hers. Her skin is so soft under his fingertips, and he feels the tremors that go through her as he skims against her. 

She pulls her head back to look him in the eye. Her breathing is ragged. 

“I think I need to know you're not going to hurt me,” she says. 

“I never --” 

“Not like that.” She doesn't mean physically. She's been hurt that way before. He's tracing a raised scar on her back under his fingertips. He knows she means emotionally. 

He doesn't say the words, but they come to some kind of agreement without them. Her lips touch his, tentatively. He waits. Barely breathing. Hands encircling her waist. He knows she can feel how aroused he is against her in this embrace. But they can take their time. 

The kiss ends. He lets her slide away. They start walking through the jungle again, side by side. 

“If she came back tomorrow, you'd drop me without another thought,” Juliet says. 

Are these the things she thinks about? “Maybe I wouldn't,” he says. It's the best he can do. He finds he kind of means it. 

“Maybe,” she concedes. 

They walk some more. Looking for the trail they will never, ever find. “Is maybe enough to build something on?” she asks. 

He can't say. Pretends to be looking for that trail. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Talk about what?” he snaps. 

She gives him that practical, dead-inside look. “When did we stop thinking about them? The freighter. The explosion.” 

“We've been kinda busy trying to survive.” 

“Surviving the disco dance was tough, James,” she agrees sharply.

“Before that,” he glares. “They're not coming back. Not here, and not now. It's just us.” 

They keep walking. In circles. There's that broken tree limb again. 

He's wondering what they would do if they found something. Someone. Anyone. Including the hostiles. He must have been thinking it really loudly, because she says, “Don't forget I saved your ass.” 

When she took out the one aiming at him, before he had a chance to fire in self-defense. When they saved Amy. 

“I didn't forget. Maybe that's when I fell in love.” 

Oops. He didn't mean to say that. 

“You don't love me,” she says. 

His face is hot and his dirty fingernails are suddenly fascinating. He doesn't say anything. 

“Then you don't know what love is,” she says, and starts walking again. 

“And you're the expert?” he snaps. Thinking about the farce that was her and Jack. Now she's the one who doesn't reply. 

“So we're friends?” he says. Frustrated. Feeling the need to put a name to things. 

She turns on him. “You don't want to be my friend, James,” she says. Her voice is husky. She wets her lips. Meets his eyes. “And I don't want to be yours.” 

And then she finally, finally kisses him. 

He lets her. Softly, at first. She explores his closed lips with her tongue. Her hands rake through his hair as she presses deeper. He meets her tongue with his, still letting her take the lead. She wants him. They aren't going back to how things were before this moment. His hands slide up her sides, underneath her shirt. 

They kiss for what feels like hours. Then she slides away, eyes opening to meet his gaze. He sees the desire there. She wipes her wet, swollen mouth with the back of her hand and he finds it impossibly sexy. 

She notices the broken tree branch. “I think we're lost,” she says, half-laughing. 

“I know exactly where we are.” He hitches her around the waist again, pulling her against him. He holds her for a long moment, then kisses her again. He doesn't ever want to stop. 

…

When they're standing at the sub dock on Tuesday, watching it leave without them again, she slips her hand into his. He loves that nothing with her is easy. That she makes him work for it. 

He also hasn't forgotten all the ways she manipulated them when she was with the Others. He suspects she knows that this is exactly how to hook his interest and keep it. If things were easy, he'd get bored. 

“Another sub in two weeks,” he says with a grin. 

She squeezes his hand tighter. He thinks this confirms his theory, and he feels pretty smug about it. 

And she thinks that her manipulation has been successful because he has no idea her heart is racing. Every time she sees him, her knees go a little weak, and she can feel those dimples of his all the way down into the heat of her body. She's terrified and exhilarated. She doesn't want to fall in love with him. Didn't want to. She already has. 

(end)


End file.
